Perfect
by Eriks Little Stalker
Summary: How Maggie feels after the ordeal of meeting her birth father. In my 'An Odd Prodigy' universe!


Perfect  
  
RATING: Bah..19-13, though not even that high! But, oh well.  
  
SUMMARY: Song fic, Katherine/Maggie reflects on how she feels to all of the ordeal.  
  
Sorta a prequal to the story I'm writting, and I will finnish it, lol!   
  
DEDICATION: To Neph, for being the shiznat.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, only Caitlin and Marc. Yep. And "Perfect" was written and   
  
sung by Simple Plan. Fo shezzy.   
  
***********  
  
Hey dad look at me  
  
Think back and talk to me  
  
Did I grow up according to your plan?   
  
The drive home from the now chaotic teen shelter was a mess, of course, to others I looked relieved,  
  
happy. Doc drove, Tracey sat beside him, and I laid in the back seat. I killed my own father...my own father.  
  
Stuff like this doesn't happen every day, it just doesn't.   
  
I lay against the leather interior of the seats, the seats where a dark brown, the car was brown on the out side, but tan inside, except for the seats and steering wheal. They think I'm earning well deserved rest, no. I stair up at the car ceiling as they take me back to my mothers house. I do have my own home, but I preferred to stay with my mother.   
  
Not my real one, but my mother.  
  
And do you think I'm wasting my time doing things I wanna do?  
  
But it hurts when you disapprove all along  
  
My chestnut brown hair, that was usually and religiously tidy was a mess. Tangles and static, though I should not care. I really shouldn't.  
  
But I do. The ever Obsessive Compulsive side of me yearns to grab the nearst comb and fix it. My naturally olive skin is bruised, and dirt and grime  
  
all over. I sigh as I look over myself, yes, I was a mess. My aqua sweater was---ruined--and my pants were going to be put in the garbage as soon as tomorrow comes. Now unemployed, if you call working at a free homeless shelter for runaway teens "employment", at least I can have a nice shower and a good nights rest. Hopefully, one without nightmares.   
  
I don't believe I'll ever go to sleep again; memories from my past haunt me, make me open my eyes.   
  
And now I try hard to make it  
  
I just want to make you proud  
  
The little girl was me! I was that trusting little girl who hung on her fathers every whim! I loved him, I truly did. When I was a teenager, I always felt  
  
I never "fitted-in." At eleven, I smoked my first cigarette. Fourteen, I gave myself a Mohawk and died my hair green and black. At seventeen my friend, who  
  
I haven't spoken to since then, gave me a tattoo that had "KISS" in jagged letters on my lower back. All this time, I actually did well in school. Well, I didn't start  
  
passing until my Junior year. How I became a Psychiatrist, I do not know. I always felt that something was missing, something was not right. I don't remember  
  
being adopted into the family I grew to call mom and dad. I do remember crying, now at least, I used to cry and cry...he used to save me from the lightning.   
  
He always saved me. When I -was- his little girl. Now, I'm just an enemy. I remember being four, or three, before I was taken away, and I was crying. Lightning  
  
'till this day frightens the life out of me! He'd always come into my room, hold me, and tell me it would be alright. As rain begines to beat apon the car window, I remember.  
  
I'm never gonna be good enough for you  
  
I can't pretend that  
  
I'm alright  
  
And you can't change me  
  
(--1965---FLASHBACK--)  
  
She sprang up in bed, as lightning flashed, and rained poured onto the ground, she held her doll made of yarn. Sally. She hugged Sally tightly, and whimpered.  
  
Katherine hated the lightning, especially after a nightmare. Her bottom lip popped out as tears streamed down her face, she threw her legs over her little baby bed,  
  
and began to walk barefooted, Sally with her to her parents bedroom. The floors always squeaked when she walked. It was creepy and it irritated her. Her long, dark, curly   
  
eyelashes blinked together as tears came down her cheeks from her watery huge dark eyes. She tentatively knocked on her parents door. Her daddy was always up.  
  
He rarely sleeps. Katherine always assumed that he had nightmares too, like her, and was afraid to. Softly, she calls out to her hero. "Daddy?"  
  
'Cuz we lost it all   
  
Nothing lasts forever  
  
I'm sorry   
  
I can't be perfect  
  
A man appears infront of the door way, inches away from his daughter. A side only for Katherine, Freddy bends down to her level, and gathers his little princess into his arms  
  
for a hug. "What's a matter princess?" he questions softly. The menacing, sadistic, gritty voice completely gone. Katherine was not like any of the other children, she was his.   
  
And his little girl was his world. "I scared." She says, bobing her head up and down sniffling. She wraps her arms around his neck as he lifts her up, her little small feet going around  
  
his waiste as he carries her back to her room.   
  
Now it's just too late and   
  
We can't go back  
  
I'm sorry   
  
I can't be perfect  
  
"Nothing can harm you, Kat," he says soothing the little girl as he lays her down in her baby bed, "Daddy won't let it." He adds. A second meaning behind his words, but Katherine  
  
looks up at him as she snuggles back into her bed, slowly falling to sleep. Freddy watches her. She wasn't like the other brats he killed: snotty, argumenative, spoiled. No. Katherine  
  
was his daughter. His little princess. He stares at the little sleep figuire infront of him, then slowlym softly, turns to leave.  
  
I try not to think  
  
About the pain I feel inside  
  
Did you know you used to be my hero?  
  
(----Present---)  
  
I wake up now. I'm in my old bed. My adoptive mother, but still a mother in so many ways, hums cheerfuly in the kitchen. I lay there, letting the sun rays fall on my face, loving the warmth,  
  
and I think. Guilt, pride, dispair, love, and hate all fill my heart right now. That is soon forgoten as a light sound of a three year old voice fills my ears.  
  
My Caitlin.  
  
"Mommy!" The auburn, bony but still adorable, little girl chirps. She rushes into the room, hops onto the queen sized bed, and pounces on me. In response,  
  
I give a strained groan with a light chuckle, and huge the little girl as tight as I could. Her curly auburn hair, she completely received from Marc. Marc. The  
  
Sweedish Navy Sargent I met at twenty five, then later Caitlin was born. He's a sweet man, he also gave me Matt. My son, who is about six months old right now.  
  
Sweet, sweet man. Caitlin snuggles to me contently, hugging onto my waist. She begins to see an song that probably Marc taught her. Unlike me or Marc, she is a good singer.   
  
I'm....tone deaf. Strange, she looks so much like him. Her cheek bones, but mostly those icy blueish-green eyes.   
  
Her eyes are his. Though, innocent and loving, I know see him in her. My daughter.   
  
All the days you spend with me  
  
Now seem so far away  
  
And it feels like you don't care anymore  
  
"I'm...saiiiiiiling...away...to the open arms, of the virgin seeaaaaaaa......" Caitlin sings to me. I kiss the top of her head, tears falling out of my eyes. Was I wrong to miss a father  
  
you never really remembered having? Or had? Was it wrong for wishing to alter time so you can have another chance to have him as a father? Why do I even want to?  
  
He is horrible: he kills my mother, blames a five year old for making him get caught, and tires to kill me. Yet, I still want to be his daughter. Why!?   
  
And now I try hard to make it   
  
I just want to make you proud   
  
I'm never gonna be good enough for you  
  
I can't stand another fight  
  
And nothing's alright  
  
I hug Caitlin close, by God! I won't make my daughter cry! I'll be a good parent, to her and Matt. I need to. I won't be like my father, my father. My father. Freddy Krueger.  
  
I won't. He'll never know my feelings, he can't comprehend them. His mind has gone too far to even look at me kindly. Yet, its better than anything.  
  
'Cuz we lost it all   
  
Nothing lasts forever  
  
I'm sorry   
  
I can't be perfect  
  
Now it's just too late and   
  
We can't go back  
  
I'm sorry   
  
I can't be perfect  
  
My father's main reason for hating me is because I'm NOT like him. I don't kill people, I never could. My hair is still wet, or at least damp, from last nights quick shower, and I only wore my HARVARD UNI. Gray sweat shirt. And granted underwear.   
  
I could never hurt anyone, yet I hurt my dad. I killed my dad. I had to. I wish I never would have, I really did. I really wished I never put that fire cracker into his  
  
chest and left him. I wished I could of un pinned him with those spears and hugged him while I sobbed rediculously. He'll probably take that chance to kill me.  
  
Caitlin would never know she had a grampa, neither will Matt, or any more children I might have.  
  
I'm not perfect enough for my father, I guess I could never be. I hate him, I love him. I cuddle into the stuffed white silk pillow, feeling quite lazy this mourning, and moan into the pillow.   
  
Nothing's gonna change the things that you said  
  
Nothing's gonna make this right again  
  
Please don't turn your back  
  
I can't believe it's hard  
  
Just to talk to you  
  
But you don't understand  
  
"Mommy!" Caitlin bounced on the bed with her boney knee's, her pink dress night gown, one of strawberry short cake, bounced with her.  
  
"Wake up!! Nana say's we can't eat pancakes 'till you wake up! Wake up Mommy!" She whines, roughly shaking me awake. I groan and sit up slowly, she  
  
jumps off declaring victory, the brat, as I rise out of bed, yawning. "HOLD ME!! HOLD ME!" She pleads, enstreatching her arms to me to pick her up.  
  
Which I do, she giggless as I make my way down the kitchen.  
  
'Cuz we lost it all   
  
Nothing lasts forever  
  
I'm sorry   
  
I can't be perfect  
  
Now it's just too late and   
  
We can't go back  
  
I'm sorry   
  
I can't be perfect  
  
I sit down, set Caitlin nect to me. Some how, I know I'll go on. Some how, I know that everything, despite of who I am,  
  
will be alright. I look to Caitlin, who is showing my mother the wonders of unswallowed food in her mouth, and Matt, who just lays in the  
  
car seat, sleeping. I'm not crazy, I'm not messed up. I'll be okay.   
  
And some how, a big part of me isn't believe any word I'm telling to myself.  
  
And never will. Because I'm not okay. I'm a KRUEGER. That is far from okay.  
  
I'm his little girl. And I pray that my children will never have to meet him. I hope. 


End file.
